180

Day One Hundred and Eighty:  Moments

Jess’s Advice Series #1:  Savouring Moments

My boss and I were speaking a week or two ago about Family Dinners.  It wasn’t an awkward conversation or anything, but it was just about the importance of Family Dinners and if they are necessary.  For example in my household we have family dinner every night no question unless we have other plans, and everyone sits together and eats together and we ask around “How was your day?” and then eat.  My boss and I were saying that however many times you have dinner together as a family, only a handful result in meaningful conversation, happy interesting beautiful times that are truly memorable.

Which is bittersweet.  I love spending time with my family, but it is true that most of the moments that we experience together are not exactly memorable.  What I would like to emphasize is the fact that as a society we pressure eachother to spend time together, and we pressure ourselves to do things that we think are meaningful but in reality don’t end up glowing stars in our memory.  What I am trying to get at here is that not every moent can be memorable, but to cherish the ones that are.

For example I don’t remember every single day in London.  I don’t.  I wish I did, but tat’s the curse of living in an amazing place for a while, it ends up blurring together.  I do however remember blazing nights.  Like the night AJ took me to the Christmas Carol and we spent ten minutes a block from Leceister square laughing on the side of the street because our teeth were stained red.  Momentarilly insignificant, but it’s those little things that really stick with me. 

Or the time that my sister visited me in residence.  We were only together for a night, but we spent the entire night watching our favourite movies and eating tons of food and laughing, we stayed up late and had to sleep in a very small single bed and laughed a lot trying to fall asleep because it was so tiny we could hardly fit.  It is still one of my favourite nights.

And not all memorable moments are good things I suppose, like those dreadful nights where things just seem like real nightmares, but those are the definitive moments in our life.  Reflecting on my graduation night as my siter graduates this year and realising that that night was monumental on the grand scheme of things because of what happened.  Beecause I spoke to certain people and such.  It is important to me to take with value the moments that have defined me in my life.

So this is my advice to start off this week:  Look back through your memories and think of those moments that you still think back in awe and admiration.  Think of how you reacted during that moment and how nostalgia changes those feelings and thoughts.  Think about them, and recognise their importance in your life.  This isn’t a daily thing, it isn’t a moment-to-moment thing, it is just a time in your life when moments become gravitational, they become the things that you cling to when times get rough, and remember how you felt during and after them, because those are the feelings that define you.

Yesterday I had a defining moment.  If you speak to me often you will know I am ridiculously self aware.  I know when I am uncomfortable, and I know when I am happy.  Yesterday I was rock climbing with some really good friends, and it was a little hard for me and intimidating to be with such confident people, but I tried it at least, and was a little timid to perform infront of the others but did it anyway.  There was a small moment, insignificant to others I think, that I will remember as definitive, and that was after we had all climbed for a bit and were just standing around joking and commenting on the afternoon, and winding up from the climb.  We were standing in a small circle and just laughing, it honestly lasted probably ten seconds, but it was the point of yesterday’s events that I really grappled with the idea that this was what adults do, this is what life’s about.  It isn’t what I was wearing, or if I was stronger or smarter than anyone, or if I was even witty or compassionate, it was smiling and laughing with a group of people who really know me and have the ability to make me laugh.  It was a definitive moment because I acknowledge it as such, but also because I felt that I fit.

x

179

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Nine:  I don’t feel like writing.

I’m behind, only by two, so I will write those two today, but as a confession I don’t feel like writing.  Sometimes this happens when writing my blogs and I end up making absolute wonderful posts, and other times the idea’s that have come from the bottom of the pile didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped.  Writing a post every single day is hard to muster up new content without a theme or any direction other than things that I’d like to talk about.  As for today it is the feeling of not wanting to write.

This happens to BA students with papers.  We hate writing papers after about the introduction paragraph.  We hate reading too, but that’s another post.  Writing is the harder challenge, because a lot relies on the words we write. I started writing a different prose text about words, and after a while it became convoluted with the understanding that we use words in such abstract ways sometimes that in all reality writing them to our satisfaction sometimes doesn’t give them justice.

Convoluted, my new favourite word.

The thing about writing blogs is that mine have a voice, my voice, and sometimes I find that if I have little motivation to write sometimes my voice comes out better than when I have an idea.  There are less..well, idea’s and words to muddle up the voice, and so it really is just me telling you that nope, not today, not happening nothing creative.  And I think that’s okay.  I tried writing a poem on here earlier this week, that also didn’t make it to the post.  I’d love to write more poetry again, but it becomes tedious and draining.

Coming up with new idea’s is something that escapes me usually when it comes to these blogs lately.  I wish I could do another series, maybe I’ll start that today.  I’ll have to think for a bit, but when I have a series it is less work working up the motivation to opena  word doc and post.  Oh writing, how elusive and sporadic you are, a temptress in the foggy evenings on which the novices of words go looking for you.  Oh, how elusive indeed.

Too bad it’s mid-day and all of the words are plainly infront of me, I just can’t seem to choose the right ones.

x

178

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Eight:  Moving On…

Is it just me or does everyone reach that point of wanting to move on at different times than others?  I mean, no one becomes “ready” all at the same time, which is really unfortunate for the cohesiveness of the whole process.  Some people still care, unrequited love, all kinds of misread signals or over-thinking to result in sometimes heartbreak, sometimes triumph, depending on if it is romantic or not.  Sometimes people are ready to move past their peers academically, which is less awkward but no less frustrating.  All in all moving on in general is hard to do “right.”

So how do we?  Or is there a “right” way?  Or do we all just carry ourselves through this world with just enough oomf to get us to the goals and points we need?  Is it so important to necessarily move on all at the same time?  No, it isn’t important, and almost better to do it at your own pace.

I am so proud of my little sister who graduated this evening from highscool, and she has chosen to take a year before entering university which I think is a really mature decision.  She now has tie to make some money and actually think through things, instead of jumping into something she may not like.   I love you, Mid, and couldn’t be more proud on a night like this.

To everyone I challenge you to challenge yourself.  Maybe step out of your comfort zone, do something different and live a little.  I always say that life is fleeting, but I sometimes do not take my own advice.  I pledge to live a little this weekend, eat French fries and sleep all day.  Maybe hand in a paper an hour before it is due.  How else will I feel adrenaline pumping through my veins? 

That was a really sad attempt to mimic sarcasm within prose, I apologise.  But seriously I am going to challenge myself in the near future as if I am not today, and I hope you all do too.  It is definitely worth it in the long run in my opinion.

x

177

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Seven: 

Once upon a time there was a young and beautiful Princess.  She lived in a small bungalow on the ocean and her front lawn was rocky and full of either sand and dandelions.  She didn’t live in the castle with the other Princesses because they all had really long hair of many different colours and her hair was nothing special, it was even long like theirs, but it was the unremarkable shape of curls, and to the other Princesses it didn’t matter if you walked and talked the same, those little details broke their code, and ultimately lost her a place within their circle.

She was okay with all of this because it meant she could live on the water and hear the waves at night, and see the sunrise in the morning, and clean her own house and make her own breakfast.  It was one of those things that you just miss (or assume you would, since she had been a Princess since she was born and so she’s never known a different way, she would assume that other people would miss making their own breakfast, the choices they would miss out on!  And what if everyone just felt like plain bagels all day?) and she could plant her own garden and let her long curly hair fall down as much as she liked.  She did, however, live alone.

Once before her father had passed away he had asked to send her an animal from the royal family’s farm, but she wouldn’t take a pony with its long straight hair, or even a dog or kitten, because she felt that they would feel too lonely out on the ocean like her.  He offered her fish and other sea-creatures to live in the water beside her, but she had never been taught to swim.  After the King had passed away there were no more offers of companionship coming from the castle, and especially no visitors from her Princess sisters.

One day there was a great storm that came up on the shore and rocked the small bungalow where she lived.  She stayed indoors under a blanket by the front window intent on watching the dark clouds roll over the water and wished so hopefully that she would no longer be alone.  As the wind rose and the crashes of thunder grew louder the storm was on top of the shore where she lived and she tucked every part of her body under the blanket in order to keep calm. Storms weren’t the scariest things that she’d experienced on the shore but they definitely brought a distinct chill with them, and although there was a large fire in her hearth she could still feel the dampnes the gloomy weather carried.

After a few minutes the lightening grew so bright that she had to shield her eyes, and after a moment huddled completely under the blanket she looked up to see the rocking ocean and her shore, her stones and seedy weeds drenched with water from an indecipherable mix of the ocean and the sky, and something that had not been there before.  Something…nearing the shore that looked to be a small boat almost lost in the waves.  She couldn’t see if there was anyone aboard but she knew that without help the boat might be lost forever.  Despite her lack of swimming knowledge or the possibility of pirates or another destructive threat of visitors she jumped to her feet and ran into her front yard, into the storm.

The boat was much ccloser as she approached the water, her toes recoiling from the brisk salty water at her feet.  Only being out in the rain for a moment had drenched her right through the long dress she wore, and although humidity was uncommon near the shore her curls remain potent despite the cool rain hitting her from the sky.  She waved her arms as the boat reached  the shore, but still no one seemed to be on this average sized yet simple boat.  As it floated softly to her feet (which amidst the waves rocking it back and frth was mesmerizing considering the circumstances) she grabbed hold of one edge and peered inside. 

Sample RP, don’t know where this came from today….sort of out of habit but missing it greatly. Could use something new, different and challenging for my month of in August.  This is the point where someone would answer I suppose, wouldn’t it?

176

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Six:  Dear Body,

  This used to be a Youtube thing when I was in tenth grade, and I never made a video, but I thought on behalf of feeling better about body image lately I’d write some short letters to my body.

Dear Body,

Hair,

               Although you sometimes do whatever you would like instead of listening to me I thank you for occaisionally making me look a) badass Bowie, b) very messy and curly, or c) somewhat put together. 

Eyes,

               We’ve been through a whole lot together, and despite the fact that you rarely do what I’d like and constantly give up on me, I refuse to give up on you.  I know deep down that you love me, and you’ve done this for a reason, to teach me to be a better more compassionate and driven person.  I thank you for your strength and all the bullshit we put up together.  Sorry for sleeping on you the wrong way last night, too.

Shouder,

               Thank you for having held my backpack up for years and never really stopping.  You tirelessly work your magic on aiding in my balance but sometimes I don’t give you enough credit.  I am sincerely sorry and wish you the best of luck in our future.

Hands,

               Wrists, palms, finders, and finger nails:  I am completely and totally sorry.  I crack you, burn you, bite you hit you whack you and all other things that one might put their hands through and I always take you for granted.  How would I be typing without you?  How would I do anything, really?  I don’t appreciate you enough.  Thank you for putting up with my hackney-ing.

Chest,

               Thanks for being awesome. Kcoolmovingon

Internal organs,

               Including my now non-existent gallbladder, stomach, kidneys, liver, and lungs:  I’m never taking you for granted again.  I am sorry for the greasy food, the beers, the binge drinking in first year (and occaisionally since), the overeating, the under eating, and everything else that potentially harmed you in any way.  I do appreciate you, but sometimes I think it’s kind of gross that you’re all shoved into my body and I can’t see you. 

Legs,

               I don’t know how you put up with me.  I hated you at first, but now I think you are beautiful.  I know that without you I would fall down, I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, I wouldn’t have been able to climb mountains or take the tube or swim in the ocean.  I wouldn’t be able to run alongside the kids or go shopping or anything at all. You are my first support and the last to take a break, and for that I thank you.

Feet,

Oh, oh…  I tell people that beauty is pain when they see my heals, and to be honest I really wish I took better care of you before now.  I promise that as soon as I am comfortable with it I will get you a pedicure once a season, because baby you are worth it. (babies? Feet? I don’t know.)

Dear Body,

               There are days that I don’t know why I have the body I have.  There are days I know I wouldn’t be abe to make it without you, and other days where I’m stuck in my theoretical head and know that I could survive elsewhere.  I put you through scolding showers and cold showers and all kinds of things and you only give up on me sometimes.  I’ve beentrying to tell you how beautiful you are, and yet sometimes I forget.  I think that I should be focusing on all of the things I do have instead of the things I’m ashamed of.  If Ionly knew what you did for me on a daily basis… I know.  And I appreciate it, I do, even when sometimes I don’t show it.  I am working on it, I promise, and I henceforth pledge to consider you when thinking of going on diets, working out beyond exhaustion, eating unhealthily and staying up all night.  Thank you for being you.

x

175

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Five:  Existential Emphasis

It would be wonderful if I was finished with these summer courses and not just halfway through and swamped with midterms.  I’m hoping to finish two very large papers this week and another early next week in order to get the bulk of this semester out of the way.  Why is it that professors put the emphasis of the coursework and marks all in the same portion of the class?  Two essays in two weeks?  Sure!  Discussion marks out the ass?  Sure!  What, we don’t want a social life as well as a working and academic one, right?

Or let alone maybe a workout or the time for any proper sleep.  I wrote a while ago in my first blog about balance and how hard it is for anyone in this day and age to balance everything that they “should” be.  For example, we should be good to the environment but efficient and fast and on time, cost effective but also make a lot of money and go through years of university and college to get there, and while this goes on at the same time eat healthy (and afford it) but also binge drink and work out all of the time.  We have to donate to charity and have a large social group but also spend time reading the newspapers, novels, stay cultured see plays and volunteer.  Try to do this, balance it all, and maybe things will be okay.

The thing is is that we are told that those are the things that should be important and a lot of them are, but in the grand scheme of things I think it is up to each of us to show merit where merit is due.  I want to do well in these summer courses but by the end of this semester will the marks really matter/?  No, because I am learning a whole lot just reading and discussing online.

I think I’m lucky I have discovered the secret though, the secret that is to be grateful and value what I do have.

I don’t give myself enough credit, or enough breaks, and go on full steam ahead a ot of the time, and I am trying to work on that.  My word for this year was “nurture,” and I think I’ve been struggling with it a bit.  Hussey says to make a list and stick to it so by golly am I ever.

x

174

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Four:  Kay,

Let us all clear something up.  In life you have to roll with the punches, sit in the water and let the waves crash over you and then sit back up again, if something comes up you go through it, you don’t just stop you don’t blame others you don’t check out, you are present and strong and face it with your teeth bared and fists wild.  I have grown a tolerance over the years to people who believe they don’t have the ability to take life, to blame others for their issues, to look elsewhere for answers and to rely on the world to keep them standing.  Let’s be honest, honey, if you need something you look inside yourself, you believe that you cando it and youdo it.  Okay?  Good.  Glad that’s cleared up.

Whena  wave hits you you struggle but you get up on your own legs.  If the waves pull you with the undertoe and you can’t breathe that’s when you lean on others, capiche?  Let’s go now andiamo.

Take life as it is, deal with it, and don’t push people away.  Especially people who are interested in being interested in you.  Sit in those waves, don’tnust sit on the beach and let the water go by infront of you.  If you have been on the beach take a risk and jump in, the water’ll always be there to keep you entertained.  Oh life, life-life-life, and it’s thre and it’s for you to be in and live, okay?

Stop being passive stop pushing people, what else?  Be strong because you are.  It’s inside of you, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and realise that you are.  I know it.  I may have never told you, met you, known you, spoken or listened to you but I know that you are strong and can do this.

Just so you know, don’t forget it.

Love,

x

173

Day One Hundred and Seventy-Three:  Ode To the Moist Ladies

Despite the two hour detour to Toronto

The drive was pleasant, pleasant enough even for umerous break-out dances

That lasted until about half an hour ago, when I got out of the car again,

We finally made it to the right Ontario St., or did we?

Well, we finally mae it to High Tea.

Clotted Cream  to our surprise

And scones andother yummy cream pies,

We made it back to Devra’s hpme

For a brief moment before we left for the Casino

Spending little money and winning less

We trotted around Niagara in our pretty dress (es, we didn’t share just one)

(oh, and Bolivia pants)

Back to Derv’s where Jenna said goodbye

And the rest of us opened a bottle of wine

(and Crown Royale, jeez Maya ruining my half rhyme!)

After an evening of mainly talking about Peru

We awoke for breakfast, the pier, and a carousel…

After all of this finishing with a large vanilla cake,

Oh Devra, Derv, my love, we spent a weekend for your Birthday

In St. Catherines, I know it took us too long to arrive,

But now that’s it’s over I miss it, you, Jenna and Maya already.

Oh the moist ladies as apparently we are now called

Spent hours upon hours celebrating, laughing, dancing,

And being us…four, all four of us, so different and yet just as

Awesome as ever.

This weekend summed up in probably the worst poem ever.  To be fair it was called an “Ode” from the beginning, which in my opinion is open for interpretation.  To sum up that sum up it was a fabulous evening/day, and now that I’m home I miss pretty much every thing about every lady (moist and not) immensely.  We must plan our Vegas trip (you know, when we can afford that kind of thing) but in the meantime a frosh Wonderland trip.

Despite my allergies, the four hour plus drive to get there, a jumpy dog, losing at the casino, earl morning wake ups, impending thunderstorms (and ricket carousels) and a long drive home, I am so happy that I met you three and that we are such great friends.  I am so lucky.

That’s it I’m changing the name of this entire blog to “I’m so lucky,” because I say it so often, but I truly am.  I haven’t just started not taking things for granted but I really do appreciate the things that I have.  Great friends is just one of them.

xxxoxoxoxoxoox

172

Day One Hundred Seventy-Two:  High Tea Round Three and not the last

In London I went to two different tea times at two different places with two different groups of people and each time I fell into step like it was my second skin.  I love tea, I love people, I love parties, it’s almost like I’m the Mad Hatter and I keep going on rounds and rounds of these.  I don’t think I will ever complain, though, because they are basically my favourite kind of party ever.  A tea party.

Oh but this is so much more exciting.  Today, this, this is Devra’s birthday tea party.  Which means she will be smothered with love and cuddles and tea! I hope anyway.  I have this feeling that she is not expecting the tsunami of love that is coming her way.  She will not be warned of this either.  It’s the kind of love that someone who spends for intense months of close contact and relationship building that creates the love we have.  I miss Dev every day.  Not just because she’d make me set an alarm half an hour before I had to get up for her to shower, or that time I taught her to knit and she kept yelling at the needles, or that time we got lost on that bus in Chelsea and found our way to this big department store and sandwiches…Or the time we ran in the ran to see the Downton people…There’s actually an infinite amount of memories I could put here.  I miss Dev because she’s one of the nicest, smartest, funniest people I’ve ever met.  She also has a killer laugh.

My goal is to hear that laugh as much as humanly possible in the next 24 hours.

Love you Dev, be there in a few hours to drown you in affection.

x

171

Day One Hundred and Seventy-One:  Ipad

I have spent a good forty five minjutes truly playing around with it and I know already that it will fit right in with the other technology that accompanies me around in my life.  If I didn’t have enough screens, tech, and adaptive tech already now the iPad has entered my life and created possibilities within the realm of “being normal.”  I can read magazines and newspapers again in print like other people, I can FaceTime Jess when she goes to San fransisco, and I can finally understand what “instagram” actually is.  It’s like I’m catching up with the rest of the world.

I think it’s really cool to me because apple products have always been vacant in my life and now I can totally hold it and feel like a popular kid.  I don’t have a mac, I only got an ipod in first year of university, and now I can hold this and tap it and switch the angles and feel like I belong.  Oh living in a material world, we are.  I don’t mind it though, it’s really neat to have one of my own now.

Would it be okay if I digress?  I am tired and sitting in my room in Guelph with my laptop infront of me, my phone on my lap and my ipad in my hands.  It is hot, and I have just come from a nice evening but I am so tired.  I’m at that point of the night where you kind of want to sleep but kind of want to want Sherlock.  That’s how I feel most of the day.  I am dehydrated from the heat and have a large glass of water beside me.  The person I want to talk to most isn’t here or answering, and I am thinking of just leaving this end now.  I think I should end on a happy note though.

I know, cool story bro, right?

It’s nights like these that it’s okay to sleep in your underwear and sleep a little later than usual in the morning.  It’s okay to skip out on morning yoga for a walk to the bookstore.  And it’s okay to look forward to the afternoon for once in your life.  These things may only concern me, but I am truly hoping that you have things to look forward to this weekend.  We’re going to need it with all of this humidity.

Cold shows and ciders.  Cheers and beers that’s it that’s all.

z

170

Day One Hundred and SeventyL  Goals for July

I seem to set new goals for every season, semester, and month as it seems.  As for right now I am accomplishing a few goals for the month of June, but I am looking ahead for July.  I didn’t quite meet quota with June’s editing goals…. But what can ya do, I finished most of everything else that I wanted (early morning yoga included!) so I have to give myself credit for that.  As for July I am hopefully lokoing ahead.

Now that I know for sure that I will be off work and school for the majority of August I have goals for that month already set, but it is the busy month of July that has captured and interested me:  What do I do when I am super busy and easily exhaustable?  Not only will I be working full time with the kids I will also be juggling two summer courses that have a heavy importance on papers and discussion.  I have decided to keep my goals short and simple for this month.

1.       Continue early-morning yoga (this is every other day 6am wake up with a cleanse tea, it’s good for me…right?)

2.       Read five books (my summer goal is to finish fifteen, so this is helping me get to that!)

3.       Try Moksha hot yoga (my sister and I will hopefully be getting a membership and I will be taking evening and weekend classes! Very exciting)

4.       Spend atleast two weekends in Sauble (RELAXING. Period.)

5.       Save money.  (drink at home, make more meals, eat less lunches out, stop treating yourself. Peru Peru Peru –and reading week- needs the money more than your feet/face/tech do)

6.       Purge. (Clothes, books, everything, start getting ready to move out.  Find boxes donate give away anything to make things less cluttered and get rid of the old crap I don’t use)

Those are the big six anyway, and I’m putting them here so I remember and stick to them (and so I have witnesses when I start getting too tired to wake up early enough for yoga).  I know that it is still a week away but when have I ever not been organized?  My mind is getting very mixed up lately, and with classes starting to get busier I need to maintain my structure as much as possible.  I think the save money goal will be a big one for me this month.  Having home patio parties? Check.  Making lunches? Check.  Finding the cheapest possible date destinations and movie times?  Yes please.  I need to not spend all of the money I have saved, and when it comes to September’s goals trust me there will be even less spending.  Not to mention the fact that I will have no time to go shopping.

It’s all for you, Peru.

x

169

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Nine:  Tehehehe..

Dictionary.com defines “supportive” by, loosely saying that they provide sympathy, encouragement, additional help, and helping to maintain a balance physically.  Support and being supportive is something we as human beings take for granted.  I would like to thank all of my support for being so fabulous, patient, and considerate to my ramblings, handfuls of inconvenient breakdowns, and my very loud irritating voice.  I wouldn’t be able to get through anything without you, and you probably know that.

It’s funny though, because tons of people find support through a variety of different means.  For example, some people believe that alcohol supports them through life: “Boy do I need a drink tonight,” or different kinds of drugs: “I need a toke to sleep,” and further yet: “I must pray to God to help me through this time.”  People seek support in different ways, who am I to say what is right?  (Although alcohol and drugs are kind of blatantly stupid, am I right?)

I do not consider myself religious, but I admire worship.  It seems kind of silly to me, and without offending anyone I will say in short that parables in a book are parables, and you’re ultimately worshipping the collective unconscious.  I however truly do admire worship in its glory.  I love sitting in on different kinds of worship, let it be Sunday school, concerts, service, inspirational, evangelical catholic united, monks in a lost Abbey in Tuscany or the screaming bible thumping man on Yonge St. in Toronto.  I love the way that humans rise and fall to worship within their nature and their habits. People who seek support through the worship community must feel really strongly, and for that all the power to you.

Support comes to those who let it in.  Support doesn’t need to be friends or family or the lord, but could be solace in mindless television, reading encouraging books or novels, writing councelling therapy love letters whatever gets you through, really, but it’s important to make sure that there is support there, because as much as we would like to think we are invincible gods we all fall, and we all need a trampoline of sorts to get us back on our feet again.

And thanks to my boss Jen for being a positive ambassador of engaging youth and role model in my life, and encouraging me to carry on when things got heavy.  I tip my hat to you, Jen, you’re a shining star.

x

168

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Eight:  Apocalypse

When does “the end of the world” begin?  When do these movies we see about the end of the world, the zombie apocalypse, post-apocalyptic V For Vendetta-style world begin?  And when do we realize it?  I was thinking of this the other day while listening to news reporters talking about the tornado’s in Oklahoma, and how our earth is being torn apart.  Not just by Global Warming and us (humanity) but natural disasters (that may in turn be responding to our hellish behavior with our environment) that ravage and plague our grounds with intense destruction and involuntary disaster.  When do we throw in the towel and accept the fact that “the end of the world” is a concept that is already happening?

Do we really need a nuclear war, aliens, zombies, disease or an earth-engulfing natural disaster to happen in order for the world to end?  Or are we just in transition, like the ice age for example?  A time when the earth was drastically changing without control and the beings who inhabited it just went along for the ride?  Did we ever really leave the Cold War if we still receive threats of war constantly?  Is a Cold War primarily for Nuclear bombings?  Or could we add genocide, prejudices, famine, poverty, rape, or any of the other massively degrading flaws in humanity that plague our world? 

How many hate crimes, unlawful justice systems, corrupt governments, useless wars or prejudiced mindsets must we experience to really get to the end of the world?  Isn’t the end of the world just when all hell breaks loose?  I believe that’s already happened numerous times, and in my opinion we aren’t handling it well.  Humanity and the earth cannot accommodate for their own progressive developments.  Greed and hatred have progressed further than love and honesty.  Something about this whole situation, this whole impending doom of “the end” scares me and I’m sure its not uncommon to do so.

This turned out to be rather dreary, didn’t it?  My apologies, but it’s been on my mind a lot lately.  Every morning I wake up to more killings, more murders, more war more tornado’s ripping through cities, tsunami’s ripping apart people lives, bullets ripping through chests hatred ripping through patriotism it’s like a never ending spiral of just negative things.  Why does anyone hate anyone?  Where does all of this hate come from? 

There’s so much I could say but I will save it for a rainy day (today is very sunny out, actually) and I will end on a relatively good note:  Some people don’t suck.  Alright, that’s about as much as I could muster.

x

167

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Seven:  Seven Wonders

I have way too much to talk about today.  First off, it’s father’s day.  I am so lucky to have such a supportive and caring man for  a father, thanks dad for everything you do I really do appreciate it.  I hope you enjoyed your ride today and the bike for the beach J

Next, how lucky I am to know every person that I do and how lucky I am to have so many caring people in my life.  People who have minds and hearts and feel rather than assume, and value minds over bodies.  Boy, am I the luckiest to be stuck with you all.

Also a few of my good friends are currently travelling, and reading their stories inspires me to continue to help people, and meet new people and take challenges and commit myself passionately to my work.  There hasn’t been a better time to truly commit to living out loud than this moment or last week or a month from now.

What else can I say?  I’m back in a good place, a solid, stable place where things are a lot brighter and much more motivated.  Something about having plans set in stone and knowing what you want to do really gets things going.  Also being surrounded by sound, driven passionate people with idea’s different and alike but are happy and outgoing and in love with their work.  How lucky am I to know so many talented and graciously loving people?  I miss London for that, everyone on our trip was so passionate and full of life.  I miss London for a lot more than that but the people specifically are kept close to my heart for their vibrance.

I’d say that I miss school but if only for the people and the knowledge again.  I am still learning everyday from new and challenging things at work and from the people around me but also in the books I’m reading and the activities that I throw myself into.  I’ve signed up for riding classes and have committed to rock climbing in the near future.  I want to do yoga on the rocks at the grand and on the beach at sunset and wear sweaters at night and drink wine on the back porch. 

Not this week though this week will be too back and forth for that, too much unorganisation within me to really wrap my head around the idea of this week.  I am so thankful to have Devra’s birthday on Friday to look forward to so I won’t end up going crazy with the busy-ness that is this week. This month.  This summer.  I want to keep busy and relax so badly that the contrast hurts sometimes.  Welcome to the curse of my insomnia at the moment.  But it could be worse.

That was a lot and I guess I just needed somewhere to put it all.  I have a few vogues to catch up on and some reading to finish.  Some yoga to do and some wine to drink.  Some dreams to completeand more to think up.  I wish I was elsewhere, actually, somewhere breath-taking.  I think I take Ontario for granted though and I wish I didn’t.  I’m in desperate need of a Toronto trip.  Any takers?

Won’t you keep me? I’m a keeper.

x

166

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Six:  MY Paper on E.T.

If it is unknown to anyone I am in two summer courses this summer semester.  They run until the beginning of August and I am taking one contemporary cinema and one philosophy of literary art.  I did well on my E.T. paper and am giving myself the week off on Back to the Future because I deserve it.  I’ll write on the Lion King next week and everything will be back to normal.  I write this here to stick to it and so I have witnesses.  This was a conscious decision, I will not regret this in the future. 

My summer courses have been relatively painless, despite the small amount of readings and watching movies I feel like I can draw on my previous academic experience and expand on new idea’s.  The philosophy course has got me thinking and studying Existentialism, and with an upcoming paper analysisng a short story I think I’d better get a grasp on it.  As for right now I’m going to have a go at analysing Back to the Future through the existentialist view of indulging in the intricacies of one’s own self.

Back to the Future is based on the premis that Marty McFly “accidentally” goes back in time and “accidentally” confuses his parents’ meeting and ends up changing his fate and potentially ruining any chances of his own birth.  At this moment in the film I would argue that he is interacting with his own relationship with himself.  He is invested in the well-being of his own self and doing so interrupts the conscious route of “fate.”  Throughout the film Marty struggles to save his own being, while in itself creating a new persona for both of his parents and ultimately his life’s path. 

While being obsessed with his own self he affects his father’s life path as well as his mother’s, but also Doc, who in turn involves his future self in order to remain obsorbed in the time travel phenomenon.  If anything Marty makes selfish decisions after his own stupidity, but by fighting for his own life through encouragement to his father he unites his parents whose happiness he realises is greater than his own.  Although this “existential crisis” of identity becomes a blip on the radar in Marty Mfflu’s new life I am sure that the following films are just as involved with his own self as the first one is

Not aying McFly  is self-absorbed or anything.

x

165

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Five:  It’s a beautiful day!

I feel like spending the entire day outside.  I worked this morning from bed due to a massive headache and lack of sleep, and now I’m cleaning the kitchen in anticipation for some uni friends to arrive.  I’m hoping to spend the rest of the day inbetween on the patio with some friends or helping Riss with prom prep.  I’ve never been one to respond so well to the sunshine, but I think it’s just good for me to be out in the bright.

It’s one of those days that tricks you into thinking that nothing can go wrong.  It’s so frustrating and absorbing and all-consuming that whenever I’m not outside, looking outside, or talking about it I am thinking about the sun and the warm breeze and the green grass.  I want to spend more time outside, since I work inside for most of the time.  Until July atleast when I will be greeted by a handful of kids everyday.  I love my job it keeps me on my toes.

 I long to return to Scotland in the summer as we were told numerous times how much more beautiful the highlands were.  The Isle of Skye was already the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and now my new goal is to return in the next five years to horseback ride through the highlands in the summer.  Whale watching, and visit Brian.  How could I ever not visit Brian?  What a lovely man.

What else to speak of on this lovely day?  It is my sister’s prom day!  It reminds me of my prom day, where we had to be ready so early and everything went so well.  Pictures at the Grand, the boat, coming home and waiting for rides on the curb out front of Bluevale until two am when we were back at my place watching Moulin Rouge and drinking the biggest bottle of champagne I had ever seen.  Prom, in all of its glory, is just one day.  A lot of people forget that when it jis happening.  But it is true what they say:  T’s the biggest glam night until your wedding day.  And then that is just another “one day” to remember, I guess.  But you really only get one prom.

So I hope she has a lovely time and everyone else going as well.  I’m spending the evening with good friends and I am looking forward to it.  There’s nothing quite like a quiet summer evening on my back porch talking biology, now is there?

xx

164

Day Oee Hundred and Sixty-Four:  Will you still need me?

I dress nicely for a blind girl, or so I was told today, but I know a bunch of blind girls and they all know what they’re doing.  I love when people say that your senses are heightened when one is taken away. I joke about having sonic hearing, but in all honesty I don’t really have a better sense than any other, or atleast I don’t notice it much.

When I choose clothes for example I feel it and if its soft I choose it.  I also have a thing for sound.  Footsteps…  Footsteps are like dreams that I am awake for.  And smells, I mean really it’s hard for me not to notice things like bakery’s of the smell of just-wet pavement.  But the small tings, smell is linked closely to memory, and so things like fresh lavender soap or detergent or the smell of Ceara\s house right after it was painted for the first time all of these things are triggered by those soft things that happen once in a while.  Taste is the only sense that really doesn’t affect me much.  Yes, I’m a foody, but I don’t go around constantly talking about it.

Senses are so weird.  It’s like they are definitions or meanings of things.  Senses don’t exist without an explanation.  It’s like trying to describe the colour red to a blind person who’s never seen anything.  It’s harder than you think.  It’s like trying to define a word that is a name of soething, like Jessica.  It’s hard to define what or who I am by just my name (or I’d like to think so).  Senses are irrelevant without meaning.

Which makes them a whole lot less beautiful.  I like to think seeing the countryside in Dover for the first time (despite it being broken, pixilated and less detailed) was moving in an indescribeable way.  Or the feel of being in someone’s arms and hearing a heatbeat.  Or the sound of footsteps anywhere.  They provoke emotions and thoughts that are..well, indescribeable.  Senses, man, they get ya.

I don’t know why I thought to write about this.  I didn’t know what to write when I opened this I actually wrote a really crappy poem beforehand and now I’m thinking I would love to write a short one to sum this all up but sometimes the short ones don’t come out as nice.  I’ll end on this:  Appreciate what you’ve got because when you can’t see your phone anymore or you’ll never taste cheesecake again you’ll miss it, trust me.

Even if I can’t remember what it’s like to see through two eyes anymore.

x

163

Day One Hundred and Sixty-three:  Midnight in Paris, Four am in Paris, Six am in Paris

When my eyes won’t stay open due to fatigue I don’t force myself to stay awake and write a blog and so this is the result of that.  When I go to bed early without blogging and then don’t sleep all night it becomes irritating, and this has occurred often recently.  I don’t know what’s sleep’s problem is I love sleep.  I need it like I need any other normal human body function like breathing or drinking water.  I love sleping in my own bed with the fan on and waking up in the morning feeling refresehed.  Lately, sleep hasn’t had anything to do with me.

Which to be honest is becoming a nuisance.  It’s not exam time Sleep I can’t just bag off three hours of studying to relax, I have to be at work at a desk around other people in grown up clothes!  But sleep, it seems, and has become clear to me the past few nights, speaks more in slanted, ongoing, vigorous and loud jibberish instead of coherent, logical English.  Sleep is not my friend right now, and I am beginning to miss it.

I’ve been given lots of advice on what would help me sleep and my favourite has been to take a shot of the alcoholic beverage before bed.  Since I’m opposed to sleeping medication (after my whole gall-bladder, graval overload in first year) and natural melatonin isn’t doing the trick I think it’s about time I brought out the whiskey.  I’m like a teething baby just rub it around my gums before bed and it calms me right down!  Or I’m hoping so anyway.,

All I can say is it’s a good thing I’m a morning person.  Beware of those dreaded afternoons.

x

162

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Two:  Night

lock me in your arms and let your heart
beat me to sleep,
my drowsiness clings to your breaths,
my arms cling to your dreams in fear of
being left alone in
fairytales that begin with something other
than once upon a time,
'cause you and i babe,
we begin with inbetween,
no prince, no princess, no interuptions,
only adventure clink adventure linked together
comfortably.

I wrote that poem over a year ago, two Christmases ago, actually, at the end of my first 365 blog (www.whisperhappy.blogspot.com if you’re interested).  Rereading this blog is fascinating because I was in a completely different mind-set then.  I was happily in love, and was about to embark on a massive trip abroad, and I was…naïve.  I love this poem though, and I don’t regret writing it about him despite the fact that everything I’ve written in it no longer exists.  I no longer long for his heartbeat to sleep anymore, that’s for sure.

I think why this pome really gets to me is that it really contributes to my mentality that although I do believe in love I’m not so sure that I believe in everlasting love anymore.  I believe that love can be brief, or can last a long time, but it by no means must last for decades, or a lifetime, or ten minutes.  Love is not temporal, and this poem confirms that for me.  Because as I’ve mentioned I do not regret this poem or anything really that came with that relationship, because it happened, it was real for that time, and now it is no longer evident in my life.

That’s happened with a few different things.  Like friendships.  I’ve had friends through highschool whom I no longer speak to, but I still acknowledge their existence and remember what we had.  That’s allowed, life isn’t meant to be considered temporally, but in more of a qualitative nature.  Yes, as humans we crave long-lasting relationships and we crave continuous satisfaction, but do we always need it to be happy?  I don’t believe so.

I’ll end this with a little writing from this moment then, a bit different than my earlier poem, dated December 22, 2011.

More than my bones ache, and more than my bruised eyes,

More than my lungs that sink deep beneath me searching for air,

More than “time” swirling around my lips, drawing each breath in,

Dreams come easy then with broken shards for transport

Slicing the sides on the way down,

Inescapeable imprints for memories.

It was Morrisey who said ‘Sing me to sleep’

But it takes me long enough just to breathe.

x

161

Day One Hundred and Sixty-One:  Just one of those days

One of my favourite moments in the past year was when AJ reminded me in Gard Du Nord in Paris, on our way to Frankfurt, our last fifteen minutes in France, to grab a French Vogue.  I bought it, and it is probably to this day the most expensive magazine I’ve ever purchased, but it was worth it.  Why?  Not because the French allow nudity in their public fashion magazines no, no no, because this Vogue came with a tshirt.

That seems like something so small to get excited over but not to me.  Through my travels I came home with four different Vogues from four different countries, and only one came with a tshirt.  Now, if you’re a girl like me and you eat relatively healthy and you do yoga and have erm, a larger chest, you’ll know that sometimes when you buy things that are say “one size fits all” or when you assume you buy something extremely tiny from PARIS FRANCE that it will not fit.  Things don’t usually fit me, that’s just the way my life is and that’s cool, I talk a lot about body image on here, enough about myself and how I’m happy with the way I look finally it’s all about how I feel blah blah blah and I’ll focus on the good stuff.

When we arrived in England two weeks later I had forgotten about the shirt, and so the first night I went to  get into pajamas thinking I’d wear my normal whatever was there, but in the midst of unpacking and the excitement of my first night in London England I opened this shirt from the vogue magazine thinking that it wouldn’t fit but it would be appropriate for sleeping regardless (Dev doesn’t mind if she wakes up and I’m only in underpants, right Derv?). 

I opened the package.  Slipped it over my shoulders.  And the shirt was too big.

Now, if you are a girl like me and things don’t usually fit and you’re in Paris France not thinking about those thigns but excited about the magazine then you’re not thinking about it not fitting or you’re not caring that it won’t fit.  But by golly when it does fit…

Well to say the least I cried and snuggled up with my new (clean, finally) Nido sheets, new roomie a foot beside me in her own bed, most ofmy things set up I knew I had made it.  If you read my travel blog from last semester you’ll find that I say that a lot:  I made it.  That was the first moment I felt comfortable in London.  The first day.  In a shirt I purchased with a magazine.

That now stares at me across the room, sitting on my desk, below a picture of my mom and I and a signed comicon map.  My life, my friends, may be complete at twenty-one, and I’m not planning on stopping there.  This inspiration, if you are wondering, began with a fashion tshirt.

It’s the little things, no?

x

160

Day One Hundred and Sixty:  Books in Bed, Again

   A metaphor for a cluttered mind and the inescapeable traits of an over-thinker.

I am so used to living my life amongst clutter that it shouldn’t bother me so much at the moment but it does.  I’m tired of planning things and making sure everyone knows every detail and deciding things.  I’m tired of constantly worrying, and I’m tired…well, in general.  This afternoon I have spent the past little while just catching up on emails and blogs and spending some time alone.  Have you ever been in a funk that just kind of stays?  Right now every little thing is making me itch with irritation.  It’s just…another one of those days.

I need a good sleep and to finish some books this week, and I need to get some plans made for July and take some time out of my week to get outside.  I don’t think I go outside enough.  With working full time in doors at the moment and then spending the rest of my time trying not to fall behind in school and socially I just need to get outside.  I think I’m going to walk down to the Grand alone sometime, if I can make time, I don’t know we’ll have to see.

I’ve written this post about three times already and haven’t been happy with any of them, so I guess I’ll let this one go on a formality that it has to be written today because I must do homework tomorrow because  must get it done early this week so I can relax and not worry so much about it.  Summer school is the actual worst invention ever.  IT’s so helpful but it’s so draining.  Atleast I get a full month at the end of the summer to not have work or school.

Well maybe work, and I may be taking riding lessons.  I will also be reading and writing and snuggling.  I’m an all-around together gal don’tcha-know.  Sometimes being together doesn’t mean being okay, and sometimes being together means that some parts are loose and untidy.  Cluttered is better than lost, overflowing with things isn’t a bad thing,

x

159

Day One Hundred Fitty-Nine:  Oh I’m a keeper, won’t you keep me?

Trusting people is an important aspect of social life.  Letting people in, and seeing the person you are, with the possibility that they might use it against you or leave or not care.  Trusting people with information, with your secrets, with your heart, all kinds of things, and we all do it.  We all let people in and out, pass through us like ghosts, and then continue on with our lives.  Very little do people of gravity at one point ever stay for a true long amount of time.  Even family sometimes lets you down, and when that happens it just becomes something you know.  But when it comes to someone new to trust it’s a little different.  You get that choice, that idea that maybe you could, and how to go about letting them in, and letting them see the things you hide and hold close to you.  In residence you learn to get close to people really quickly.  When travelling you see parts of people you wouldn’t normally.  There are just things that we trust and keep to ourselves and only open up for certain people.    If you have people you trust, and they’re special to you, let them know.  Maybe they already know it, or maybe you tell them often, but it is always nice to know that someone trusts you, and that you can be someone’s trust.

In a way I just wanted to speak about this a little today, and remind some people that they are special to me and I trust them.  That’s an important thing to me.

x

158

Day One Hundred and Fitty Eight:  I’ve been searching for a Heart of Gold

And I’m getting old

Part of me wants to just end it there.

I’m having a hard time putting things together that aren’t lyrics at the moment.  Neil Young, Bob Dylan, the melodic mates to my soul, that sort of waver around me and pierce through my introverted bubble every so often.  Their words, among many others, tend to bring me back to reality.  How ironic is it that people I’ve never known tell me how life is more than those around ,e…

Most people I know depend on music to bring feelings, emotions, memories, and comfort.  I’ve always said that music wouldn’t be my life, and yet what do I turn to when I need that last push to do something?  You guessed it.  I wonder often what other people’s comfort music is.  The other day at work Jess mentioned one of her songs that she listened to when she needed to get herself back up and it got me thinking:  I’m not the only person who does this.  Music therapy is a real thing, it exists for more than just me, and that in itself is comforting. 

Let it be the classics, the unknowns, the hated, the loved, the comforting, the provocative, or the undoubtable fantastic, I hope that whatever music greets you at your worst finds you tonight, it’s sure finding me.

x

157

Day One Hundred and Fitty-Seven:  The Highway is Alive Tonight…

The only thing that I miss about driving is the ability to drive long, fast, and with music pounding.  Not necessarily in the dark, not necessarily for a long time, just enough to clear my thoughts.  You thin you have it hard?  You can probably leave your conscious for moments, and even if you can’t then you’l understand what it’s like to not be able to go for a mind-clearing drive when all that’s needed is an etch-e-sketch shake to wipe it clean for the night.  I miss being able to just go.

Gregor talked a lot early on last semester about the great American plain as a narrative for the great American journe, and travelling, and how things on the road were revolutionary.  I trust in this, and crave friends who can help me speed along highways and even down small city streets, it’s fascinating to be in cars, to drive, to cruise with a good song, to drive, as AJ always croons over, at night with the windows open and the warm breeze pulling through with good music and silence at the same time.  If anything I miss about driving it is that feeling of freedom.  To hop in the car and buzz off, focus on maneuveing the roads, and settle in to the comfort of concrete and melody to take you away.

I have no solution for me, as I can’t drive.

Maybe walking?  But that’s not the same.  Sitting isn’t the same.  Even driving with someone else is not the same, because there’s always that tension for conversation.  I want to just be alone with no thoughts and sing Bowie again down Lancaster like I did in eleventh grade, as loud as Space Oddity would go, and cry and sit in traffic and construction and laugh because the sun roof was open and everyone could hear that I was listening to the Queen of Glam.  I’m proud, to say the least, that I was even able to experience it at all, as some of my friends never will experience those true free sensations of being completely alone with just your thoughts and music in a vehicle.

So tonight when I crave that freedom, that liberation, that revolutionary road full of exploration and truths, I will attempt to find it elsewhere.  No meditation is similar, and nothing can even try to compare.  If I can’t do it, I’ll wish I could and take the next best thing:  Wine and the big Sandec headphones for a spin for the first time since my surgery and the stitches were out.  It’s not nearly as satisfying, but it does the job.

x

156

Day One Hundred Fitty-Six:  Sunshine and Sephora Dreaming

I have this little urge to just head to Fairview, grab a cinnabon and make my way to sephora for an entire day.  I really want to try some new things, and some different things for the summer, but I just don’t have the time or money to go out there.  I don’t know why I have this new fascination for makeup, I hardly wear any of it at all really, only on nights when I leave the house after dark (and am seeing people, if I’m just going to Zoe’s to sleepover I wouldn’t bring even mascara) but it just makes me feel a little bit more…put together? I’m a grown up now, I should have more than three lipsticks, right?

IT also makes me feel like I can do something that the other girls can.  It’s like I’m in kindergarten again wondering why all the girls don’t have glasses like me, I’m stuck this way why not try to change it?  For what it’s worth I didn’t mind my glasses in kindergarten they were kind of huge and I had a teddy bear glasses case that I used to sit under this huge tree and read with them on, that was a good year for me I got a wedding proposal that year too, what a fine year kindergarten.

But in kindergarten I worried about looking different for different reasons.  They made fun of me to my face then, but now girls don’t really say much, it’s more of looking at them and wondering why my eyes don’t look like that, or how to properly put on lipstick.  Maybe makeup comes naturally to some girls like becoming a mother or fake tanning, and maybe it just doesn’t come naturally to me.  Sometimes I think this is a very good thing.

So I think I’ll head out there maybe in the next few weeks, it was nice to go in Toronto when it was one of the huge stores, and now I can go to the half-assed one and parouse so that I can stop complaining about it.  I need a bronze, and mayb new lipstick there’s never a time where I also don’t consider the princess or Alpheba packages of bush from the character sections….  Did I mention that the princess ones are awesome?  I wouldn’t even need them for Halloween I’d just walk around casually telling people “Nah it’s cool I’m being Cinderella today.” 

Badass. 

x